


The Beast in Me

by persephonereigns



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Beauty and the Beast (1991), Game of Thrones (TV), SanSan - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Horror, Angst, Blood and Violence, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Smut, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Slow Burn, Violence, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2017-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 11:14:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 18,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2426708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/persephonereigns/pseuds/persephonereigns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A tale as old as time.</p><p>Sansa is not a highborn maiden. <br/>Sandor is a prince with a dark secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_If you could only see the beast you've made of me_  
 _I held it in but now it seems you've set it running free_  
 _Screaming in the dark, I howl when we're apart_  
 _drag my teeth across your chest to taste your beating heart_

_-Florence and the Machine - Howl_

 

 

Sansa Stark was alone in the woods. Escaping her father’s wrath yet again. Her older sisters had never had it as bad as Sansa had. For she had killed their mother. She came sneaking in the night unawares. She brought with her a bright searing pain, the likes of which her mother had never felt with either of her sisters, and blood. So much blood. Only a tiny little infant, still a month shy of her speculated arrival. The rest of her family had never forgiven her.

The forest had become her sanctuary for more than half of her life. Where no man could reach her. She knew these woods so well, could hear someone coming yards away, plenty of time to hide or find safety. Whatever counted for safety these days anyway. If it came to the worst, she always had her bow and dagger. The entire realm being at war, there was nowhere safe of course. Her father’s lands were being bled dry by the King. The stores were already low, and winter was coming.

The demand for food was rising by the day. So many were starving, dying. The market prices were outright robbery. The tension was palpable. Sansa snuck turnips, potatoes and stale bread to families most in need whenever she could. But it was not enough, would never be enough. The game in the forest had all been hunted. The hunters were gone weeks, returning only when they had finally managed to scrape up enough to trade for something worthwhile.

Sansa was walking through the dark, heavy forest, she could hear a softly flowing stream to the left of her. A blast of chill autumn air swirled her dirty skirts, and pulled at her copper red hair. She turned her flushed face into it and closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. She did not mind one bit being out here, alone, in the wild. _No one can touch me here. I am invincible._ Her father could not beat her. Her sisters would not mock or torment her. She did not have to stare into the eyes of hungry children she could not help. She hated the King. _What good is war?! Of course HE won’t suffer cruelly, sitting on his jeweled throne, gold crown atop his head. Growing fat as a hog while the country fades away or burns to ash. So much death, so much destruction._

 

Sansa wished she could fly away. Find somewhere warm and safe for winter. _Just like a little bird._ Away from all the cold and death. But she was not a little bird. She was just a young lady. _Pah._ She scoffs. She wanted nothing to do with being a lady. Flitting off to the King’s royal balls like her sisters, held no appeal for her. _I’d rather be a hunter or… Even a knight!_ Fighting in tournaments. Glory. That sounded far more exciting than dancing, or being leered at by boys and old men. Making sure to always be polite and endure their foolish stories and japes.

No, she was happiest right here. Not to say she did not dream of songs and fairytales at times, she was still a young woman. When she was younger she used to imagine she was a princess trapped in a tower by a wicked witch, until a strong and handsome prince rescued her from her prison. Whisking her away across the sea, bound for adventure and romance. _I am no princess though, nor a bird._ She would have to keep her feet firmly planted on the pine needles right where they belonged. _No good ever came from having your head in the clouds._

Sansa was about to round for her home, as it was late enough now everyone should be fast asleep. She turned, and barely had time to register a flash of dark fur to the right of her before some thing let out the most blood curdling howl she had ever heard.

_It’s close. So so close, how could I possibly not have heard it sneaking up on me?_ Her skin broke out in gooseflesh and her scalp tingled. All the air left her lungs and she tasted metal. She had never been more frightened in all her life. She didn’t even think to grab her bow. Sansa was frozen to the spot, she followed the _thing_ with her eyes.

Growling deep in it’s throat, the beast was circling her, just barely beyond the reach of her vision, only a gleam of glistening fur in the moonlight.

Suddenly, she could smell it. Blood, and something like wet dog, only thicker, musky. She could not help the shake that began in her knees, or the sudden blackness creeping into the edges of her vision. The world was starting to spin, but before the darkness swallowed her, she saw it’s face as it came sniffing menacingly towards her. The only thing this creature could have been called was a wolf, but it was like no wolf she had ever seen. Black as midnight, and huge, as big as a horse. One half of it’s face had been seared and scarred, the fur all singed away, nothing but red and black cratered skin. Even a small piece of bone peeking out through its jaw. It made the beast all the more horrifying.

Then, for a time, the only thing Sansa knew was blackness.

 

 

Sansa awoke an unknown amount of time later. She was still in the forest, and it was still dark, but the ground was not beneath her anymore and the world was swaying slightly. Something was holding her in place and it took her a moment to realize she was being carried by someone. Someone very large, and very strong. She could not see the man’s face from where her eyes peeked out from beneath the hair that covered her eyes.

Suddenly Sansa was aware that the smell of the beast was still surrounding her and she gasped and tried to sit up in the man’s arms.

“Ser! The creature is still out there! Please!” She begged, but was not sure what for. Her voice was strained and higher than usual, her panic rising quickly. Her heart hammering in her chest. The man let out a deep, rumbling, raspy laugh and held her in his arms a little tighter. “No beast will hurt you while I am near girl.”

This took Sansa by surprise. _Why is he not afraid?_ She wondered. Suddenly things were starting to tick off in her mind. Worrisome things. First, this man was naked, at least from the waist up. _Very strange._ On the heel of that thought. _What is a half naked man doing in the woods at this hour?_ She vaguely discerned just how cold it was, but this man felt very warm, and a blush suddenly crept up her neck at their proximity.

Sansa could not see his face properly and for some reason was weary of looking him straight in the face anyhow, they were uncomfortably close enough. From what she could tell in the dark, from stolen sideways glances, he had dark hair, black perhaps. A thick beard, and from his accent he isn’t from this area, it sounded as if he hails further west.

Somehow she plucked up the courage to speak. “Ser, I thank you ever so much for rescuing me, I was so frightened! I don’t know how you managed to scare off whatever that thing was, but you have saved my life and I will forever be in your debt! May I ask your name, please?” He did not answer for such a long time that she began to worry.

She dared a peek up at him. He was frowning.

“My name…” he paused. “My name is, Clegane. Sandor Clegane.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

Sansa never forgot her courtesies. "My Lord... Sandor, it was so fortunate for you to have come upon me... just in time.” She paused for a moment, as tears pricked her eyes, then choked out, “I cannot begin to express my gratitude!" If her arms hadn’t already been wrapped around his neck she would have thrown them around him in that moment anyhow. He did not say anything back and Sansa began to feel foolish about her display of emotion.

Her thoughts kept wanting to wander to what might have happened had he not been there, but she firmly shut them out. _I'll deal with it later._

After a moment of staring ahead into the forest she realized she was still being carried by this large, mysterious man. "Well," She began. "I do believe I am quite capable of walking on my own now, thank you." She said with an unintentional edge to her voice, but the closeness of this hulking stranger was starting to overwhelm her. Even though he had just saved her life, she was still apprehensive. She was finally taking in the great size of him, how strong he was. He carried her as if she weighed nothing more than a bundle of sticks. She had never been this close to such a man before and it made her thoughts all fuzzy. Not to mention, he could probably break her in half with minimal effort, should he have a mind to do so.

"All right." Sandor finally said, stopping and setting her down, not ungently.

Sansa stood for a moment, then bent to smooth her skirts. brushing off a few leaves, twigs, and dirt that had collected on them from her little spell. Suddenly, her hands began to shake. The realization of what had just transpired hit her full force, she felt all her strength leave and a wave of exhaustion wash over her. Sansa's knees buckled and she fell to the ground, once again, with a sob.

She was picturing the terrible face of the beast as it had come towards her, teeth bared, growling so low in it’s chest, it was almost a purr. She was shaking all over and tears were flowing freely. "What was that creature?! What did it want with me?!" She cried out, not really expecting an answer. Her eyes were squeezed shut, so she wasn't looking at Sandor, or she might have noticed how he tried to keep the right side of his face turned away from her, she might also have noticed a look that might have been guilt flash across his stark features, before a scowl replaced it.

"Hungry most like. Why else do beasts roam the woods at night… but to find something tasty to eat? What in the bloody hells were you doing out here at this hour anyway?!" Sandor spat out. The reproach in his voice surprised her and she looked up at him confused and ashamed. He stood there, stubbornly staring off into the darkness.

After a moment, he reached his hand down, to help her up off the ground and said more gently, "Come on now girl, you're all right. Best we get you home quick as we can, it's very late now." Taking her arm as she steadied herself. He let go of her once she had her feet, and they continued on towards Sansa's home, with Sandor a pace or two behind her.

Sansa was so tense and distracted she walked the rest of the way to her home in silence, wringing her hands. It seemed like an entire lifetime had passed from this afternoon when she had left, until the moment she finally laid eyes on the outline of her father's cottage in the darkness. As soon as she spotted it, she stopped walking. She could taste the relief, cool as water, on her tongue. Sansa had never been as happy to see her home as she was now, and all at once weariness settled over her like a heavy quilt.

When Sandor made a noise from behind her after such a long silence, Sansa nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around to face him, but he casually turned his head to look into the forest once more, she narrowed her eyes at that, but chose to ignore it. She had almost forgotten he was following her. He was unusually quiet for such a big man...

Sandor cleared his throat. "I should probably leave you here then… What was your name girl?"

Sansa's hands flew to her mouth, "Oh! I'm so sorry! That was incredibly inconsiderate of me not to offer it earlier! Sansa, my name is Sansa, My Lord." She recovered gracefully at the end and did a small curtsey.

Sandor just laughed. "No need to apologize Sansa, you have just had the fright of your life I expect." His face fell. "Maybe you won't be going out alone in the woods so late from now on, eh?"

Sansa was thankful it was so dark or else he would have been able to see the blush that was creeping up her face. She lowered her head and mumbled, "I suppose not, ser."

Sansa raised her eyes to try and meet his but he was still facing away from her. He looked bored. As if he would rather be anywhere else, than right here talking with her. It was a situation she was not familiar with. Usually men could not keep their eyes off her, and the boys found new ways and all manner of reasons for stumbling upon her when she was in town. Not that she had ever particularly liked their attention, it was just something that had always happened.

A dark cloud passed over her fair features. "I am thankful for your assistance all the same, ser, goodnight." With that said she curtly turned away and started walking hastily towards her home, wondering why she craved some stranger's attention in the first place.

Sandor just stood there and watched her go. He did not turn to leave until he saw her silhouette disappear inside.

Safe in her bed, Sansa finally began digesting everything that had happened. She grew incredibly confused and unsettled the more she thought about it all. _Why was this man in the woods so late in the first place? He was barely dressed! He had no hunting equipment, no weapon, just himself. How could he have scared the fearsome beast away without a sword or bow? A dagger maybe? But surely that would not do much damage to such a creature, a mosquito bite only. Where did the beast go? Did he kill it? He didn't seem to have any blood on him. Why was he not afraid or even winded? Why wouldn't he look at me?_

The thoughts kept piling up and up until sleep seemed impossible. She could still feel his warm skin against her cheek and his hands cradling her body. It was far from an uncomfortable feeling and it left her puzzled. Most men she knew made her feel annoyed and exasperated, even a little nauseated. They spouted exaggerated tales of bravery and glory while she swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth left from having to fuss and gush over them. Obligated to puff up their already inflated egos, lest she anger her father and displease a potential suitor. Any other man she knew would have already told her the tale of slaying the beast, declare he would take its head home to mount on the wall for a trophy. A tribute to his courage and great strength for all to see!

Sandor, the unusual man that he certainly must be, had left her quite flustered. He had barely spoken at all, and when he had, it was quite honestly a bit rude. All her courtesies and good sense had flown out the window the minute she had regained consciousness. At the time, she had chalked it up to just narrowly escaping what would most likely have been a very gruesome and savage death. Not saying that did not play a large part, but something about Sandor was making shivers run up and down her spine, one minute turning her blood to fire and the next to ice. _Well, it's not like I'll ever have to see him again._ The feeling that thought gave her was not as comforting as it was meant to be. Her eyes were quite heavy by now and despite the queer direction of her thoughts she finally slid into a fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has responded so positively!! I very much appreciate all the feedback!


	3. Chapter 3

Sandor Clegane was angry. He was angry because he was confused, and he was angry because he was annoyed with himself. This is not something he is used to. He was raised as a prince, and rarely ever questioned himself. For the last few weeks though, for some cursed reason that made him feel quite unsettled, he could not stop thinking about that girl with the red hair and icy blue eyes from the forest, whose blood had smelled like honey. As he paced his library, his thoughts came circling again for the hundredth time to that night.

 

 

He did not usually hunt so far away from his home, but because of the damned King and his war, the game in the entire country was all but gone. He kept having to search longer and further to feed his beast. He was hoping the North Mountains would have something that would satisfy him. Finding nothing to sate his hunger, besides a few measly rabbits, he was heading back towards his home, still hungry.

That was when he had stumbled upon the stupid girl traipsing all alone through the woods in the middle of the night. _What in the Seven Hells was she doing out there?! Most people are cozy in their beds at that hour._ He had smelled her more than a mile away and had taken off towards the scent. This new, enticing smell driving him like the animal he was.

No matter how hungry he was when his change came upon him, he tried not to eat humans. Something about it didn't sit well with him. When he first began changing into the beast, it was sporadic. Any time he had gotten angry (which he had to admit was fairly often) he would become crazed, and the wolf would take over. He would charge through the woods and kill anything that crossed his path, tearing it to pieces.

Once he had finally learned to control his metamorphosis, to a degree anyway, there were times when it happened with or without his control, the full moon for instance, also when he got very, very angry. He had actually gotten pretty good at keeping his temper under control over the years though, one too many doors destroyed, not to mention countless ruined pieces of furniture, even a few missing servants he was ashamed to admit. After months of chaos and bloodshed, he had finally reached the point where he only had to kill a human in his wolf form when he was seen or being attacked.

Normally there were deer and elk to eat, but it had been weeks since he last had a good feed and it was becoming increasingly hard to resist anything at all, even squirrels were starting to look good. Soon he will have to settle for stealing cows and pigs. Even then he would have trouble finding those, the King was taking any and all. He had already resigned himself to having to feed on humans soon anyway.

He was deeply disturbed how it had been particularly hard to fight this girl's blood. It reminded him of those first few grim months in the beginning. He can't say how many ladies he had come across in his wolf form, not very many to be sure, but he could not remember any of their blood smelling as delicious as he had found the girl's. _Sansa, she had said her name was._

It couldn't just be because she was a woman. He was quite dismayed to realize he had only just avoided devouring her, he had desperately fought off his wolf only to find himself crouched over her, his saliva dripping onto her dress, inches from her face. He backed off of her immediately, turned, and almost ran for it, but stopped short instead.

His sense of smell was always heightened. Not as strong as when he was a wolf, of course, but still much stronger than a typical human's. He could still smell her. It was not as powerful or overwhelming now, but it was still very enticing. He subconsciously licked his lips, while scenting the air, and walked a few paces away to put on the spare breeches he had to strap on during his hunts, then cautiously walked back to where the girl lay.

He stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes roaming over her fair features. Her skin was pure milk, peppered with tiny freckles across her nose and the apples of her cheeks, which were red from the cold, Her lips were a perfect shade of pink, pouty. Her hair fanned out around her in a halo of auburn curls. He was surprised at the urge to have his hands in it. Her face looked peaceful now, laying there unconscious, when mere moments ago it had been frozen in fear. He continued to stare for a moment more before scooping her up, turning to follow her scent back the way she had come.

 

 

Sandor had sat down in an armchair, swirling the memories of that night in his head as one would a fine wine, savoring them. Remembering the way she had smelled and the way she had felt in his arms made the hair on his body rise, and his flesh feel as though it had become too tight for his body. He clenched his fists.

He still couldn't believe the stupid girl hadn't put two and two together. He should have just killed her right then, but he hadn't been able to bring himself to do it. She looked so young and vulnerable. Delicious.

Instead, he had escorted her home. He kept wondering if that was a wise choice. He's never let anyone survive after they had seen him fully. He was frightened and fascinated all at the same time. He had never experienced anything like this before, it was very rare for him indeed. It raised many questions he had no answers to.

His curse gave him an unusually long lasting life, one full of odd experiences and adventures. He was not immortal, but he was well over eighty years old and did not look a day past thirty. Besides the fact that he can change into an animal, there was also the ruin that was his face. Bloody fucking scars.

For these reasons, he did not leave his castle much. The few servants he kept were replaced frequently enough to avoid any suspicions. No one knew of his secret and he intended to keep it that way. Because of his reclusion he rarely met women. Not that they would have enjoyed his company much anyway he wagered. He was a very imposing man, built like a warrior with the face of a monster. Even without his scars he would be intimidating. His only interactions with women were the occasional whore when the need arose. When he did leave his castle, the people avoided him as best they could, and that was how he liked it.

Luckily, the King had forgotten all about the Clegane family of the Westerlands. The only dealings he came close to having with the King, was with the man who came around to collect the yearly taxes.

Once, long ago, Sandor was to be King of the Westerlands. That was before the kingdom had been united, before his family was taken from him, before his brother betrayed them all, before he was given his curse. Now, the legacy of his house was ruined, the family line would end with him. He would sire no children. He would not wish this curse upon anyone, especially a child.

He did not like to think about his past, or his bleak future, so instead of dwelling there he stood and crossed to the balcony.

It was just getting dark. He liked the dark. It called to him, He always felt the most alive at night. It was surely caused by the creature inside him. It was drawn to the darkness, the stars, the moon.

He stared into the distance and smiled, an incredibly wicked and sinister smile, if anyone had been unlucky enough to have seen it, they would have shivered and hurried the other way, quick as could be.

An idea had just occurred to him, or rather more correctly the animal inside him just beginning to surface, before he could even attempt to chase it away, his flesh began to darken and the black hairs on his body began to thicken and grow. Claws emerged from his fingers. His mouth elongated and his teeth pointed into vicious fangs. His body folded in on itself with a snap and crack of bones rearranging themselves. In an instant he was on all fours, jumping over the balcony, and loping into the night.

 

 

He should not have come here. The deep, sane, conscious part of him knew it, but the awful beast that he is at the moment does not care. Her smell is all over the place and it's driving him mad. His wolf form hasn't eaten in over a month and he is losing control over it. He wants to taste her blood so badly.

He is lurking around the cottage, her smell is stronger on the one side as he paces the outskirts of the tree line, watching and waiting. There are candles still flickering in one of the rooms above. His thoughts are erratic in his wolf form. _Is it her? Is it her? Is it her? The girl, the girl, the girl. Blood, blood, blood. Eat, eat, eat. Family inside, family inside, family inside. Too risky, too risky, too risky. Must eat, must eat, must eat._

He changes direction and begins to sniff around to the stables. He can smell the horses. There are only two.

The human part of him does not want to have to do this, but it's either a horse or the girl at this point. So before the beast can smash inside the cottage and eat everyone he sees ( _her, her, HER._ ) He smashes inside the barn and launches himself on top of a sleeping mare.

Sandor rips out her throat and greedily drinks the blood. He feasts on her as the other horse screams and kicks in his stall. He knows there is not much time, after his beast is sated he will change back to his human form in just a few short hours. He didn't bring any breeches this time and must return before his body changes. The journey is much faster as a wolf. Being a naked man with no coin so far from his castle would not be an ideal situation.

Sandor hears a commotion coming from the direction of the cottage and barely makes it out of the doors before an old man comes waddling around to the front. The old man screams like a woman when he sees the growling beast running off towards the woods. The sound echoes after him as he runs.

Sandor is almost home when he changes back into a man. He is exhausted and covered in dried blood as he stumbles into the castle. He quietly makes his way to his chambers. He washes off as much blood as he can in his washbasin before collapsing onto his bed, and sleeps for two days straight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have up to chapter 6 written out so far, and working on chapter 7. I will try and update daily until then. After that though, you may have to wait a bit longer, I'll try to aim for every two weeks. Please stick with me! And thank you again for all the support and encouragement! This is my first stab at fan fiction and all your kind words mean the world to me!


	4. Chapter 4

Sansa had been laying quietly in her bed, on the verge of falling asleep, had even begun to slip into the beginning of a dream, when she heard the screams. _The horses!_ She flew out of bed and ran down the stairs in her nightgown. Panic seized her heart, and her throat was suddenly very dry. Her sisters had already made it to the bottom of the steps. “Where is father? What‘s happening?” Jeyne asked in a quiet, strained voice. The candle she held flickered and cast orange light and black shadows, they battled across her pinched face. Sansa hurried out the open door, ignoring her frightened sisters.

It was easy to spot Fat Tom, one of their two servants, he was standing halfway between the cottage and the stable, beside a lantern that had fallen to the ground, still flickering. He looked terrified, the whites of his eyes were incredibly large, they floated in the darkness. Sansa began to make her way over. She could see his limbs were trembling as she came near. She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Are you all right Tom?“ She asked, but he did not answer her. His eyes were glued to the tree line behind her. Sansa turned, following his line of vision, but could not see anything. “Tom!” Sansa shook his shoulder lightly and repeated herself a bit louder. “Tom, are you all right?” Tom blinked and finally nodded slowly, once, but just continued staring into the forest.

Sansa furrowed her brows and left Tom where he was, a knot was forming in her stomach. She walked slowly towards the stable, and paused just outside the splintered mess that used to be the door. She looked at the claw marks and sucked in a deep breath, the chilly air burning her lungs. She crossed her arms as a shiver wracked her body. _I wish I had thought to grab a robe._ Sansa walked inside the stable.

A strong metallic scent hit her nostrils first, overpowering another smell, something familiar, but then Sansa saw the blood. It was running out of the third stall, over the packed dirt of Finny’s stable, a little crimson river.

Sansa forced her feet to keep walking, eyes wide, as she felt herself beginning to shake. But then she saw Finny’s legs and... No! She didn’t want to see any more, she turned around with a strangled cry. Sansa covered her mouth with the back of her hand and tried to keep down the bile that wanted to rise in her throat. Tears oozed down her cheeks. _Poor Finny! Whyyyy?!_

As Sansa was about to dash out of the stable she heard her father’s shout from outside. “Sansa! Sansa!” Sansa looked up and saw her father, Ned Stark, come barreling into the ruined doorway. “Father!” She cried, but immediately put on a brave face, he had never cared much for her tears. She stood frozen as he came near and took in the grizzly scene before him. A scowl darkening his face. “Why would someone do this to Finny?” Sansa asked her father as she knuckled tears from her eyes. Ned spat and looked down at her, his eyebrows met as he glared and shouted at her. “It wasn’t a someone, silly child! You should know better!” Ned swiftly bent to his knee to examine Finny more closely. “This was an animal, big one at that, bear maybe… Can’t say I’ve ever heard of a bear doing something like this… come to think of it, I haven’t seen any sign of bear in these woods for months now…” He trailed off and turned to examine the tracks left by whatever had killed their horse.

Sansa suddenly had a pretty good idea of what had done this, even without the words her father uttered next. He looked up at Sansa, “These look like wolf tracks.” His eyes widened. “By the Gods! Must be the biggest wolf there ever was, even bigger than a direwolf!”

The sinking feeling that had begun when she had first smelled Finny’s blood (and that _something else_ ), sunk its claws in deeper. Sansa’s eyes widened. “No.” she whispered. Understanding smacked into her and she knew for certain what had killed her horse. She bolted for the door.

She ignored her father’s call after her as she ran to where Fat Tom was, still staring into the darkness. “Tom, what did you see? Please tell me!” When he didn’t answer her or even move, she grabbed his shoulders and made him look at her face. “Tom, please!” she begged. His eyes finally focused on her, but he looked confused. _Poor Tom, he is getting rather old. I’m surprised his heart didn’t burst from his chest._ If indeed it had been the same beast she had seen weeks ago herself. “Muh, muh, muh.” Tom began, the horror written plain on his face. Finally, suddenly overcoming his shock, he yelled rather loudly, “M’lady! There was a monster! A hideous black beast!!” Spittle flew from his mouth, his breath smelled of tobacco. Sansa quickly stepped back, surprised at his outburst, as her father made his way over. “What was that now, Tom?” Ned asked, dripping disdain. “A monster, M’lord! I swear on the Seven!” Fat Tom answered indignantly. Ned scoffed. “Please, Tom, get inside and get a hold of yourself.” Tom looked sheepish, but headed inside as quickly as he could.

Ned stood where he was, staring towards the stables for a moment. Suddenly he began cursing and clenching his fists, screaming “Of all the bloody troubles! Just my damned luck! I need this like I need a hole in the head! How will Eli plow all the fields himself?! I can‘t afford a blasted new horse now!” He roared and kicked out at a barrel near the fence. Ned continued yelling and cursing into the night air. Sansa did not want her father’s ire to land upon her, so as quietly as she could she slipped inside the house after Tom.

Sansa found Tom in the kitchen hunched over the table. Grace, their other servant, was placing a steaming cup of tea before him. He lifts the cup to his lips, his hand trembling slightly and takes a sip of the warm tea. Sansa sits down beside him. He looks up at her with an odd mix of shame and pride in his eyes. “I’m no liar M’lday, I know what I saw.” He declares keeping his eyes locked to hers. She lays a hand over the one he has resting on the table and says, “I believe you, I‘ve seen it too, Tom.”

Sansa recounts her experience with the wolf in the woods. After she has finished, she stares at the incredulous look pasted onto Tom’s face and says, “We mustn’t tell father, he would not believe us anyway and would just get angry...” Sansa knew all too well what happens when her father gets angry. The faded bruises on her arms and down her back were all the reminder she needed lest she forget. She had bore the brunt of his misfortunes all of her life. A spoiled crop; Sansa was blamed. Even though the rains and a flood had been the only one to truly blame. Or when the King would take nearly all of her father’s harvest. No matter what, it was always taken out on her. This incident would, literally, end on her shoulders as well.

Sansa assumed it was because she looked so much like her mother… everyone always told her so, anyway. Her long red hair, and striking blue eyes. Her sisters both took after their father, dark brown hair and stern grey eyes. She could understand the pain he must feel having to look at her every day, a constant reminder of what was stolen from him, by her. Sansa did not doubt he must have loved her mother very much. She overheard him weeping in his chambers once, when he hadn’t know she was near. She stood and listened at the door for a moment before hearing him cry out her mother’s name in anguish, “Catelyn!” She had hurried to her bedroom after that, afraid of what he might do if he caught her there eavesdropping.

Father wasn’t always angry at her though, sometimes he could be kind. When she was younger, in more profitable times, he would travel to the capitol to sell wheat, potatoes, beans and corn. He would bring Sansa and her sisters back toys, dolls, dresses, combs, and shoes. Those were some of her fondest memories, when father returned home, happy to see her, his pockets lined with coin, smiling easily.

Sansa stood, patted Tom on his hand, and made her way back to her room. It was nearing midnight. Both of her sisters had fallen asleep on Arya’s bed. As Sansa lay under her furs, eyes wide open in the darkness, she wondered, _How will I ever sleep tonight, or any other night?_ The fact that the huge monstrous wolf had been here, so near her home, was frightening beyond measure. It could only mean one thing. The beast had come back for her, and she knew it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

_“At what point does a man turn into a monster?_  
_I don’t believe that it’s when he does horrible things,_  
_but when he accepts that he’s able to do them, and that he does them well.”_

 

 

 

Sansa Stark was inside her father‘s cottage, by her bedroom window, with a book in her hands. This is where she was typically found these days. She dared not risk entering the woods anymore, let alone her front yard. Her sisters liked to tease her about being afraid of the big bad wolf. She attempted to avoid them as best she could. They had not seen the creature, seen what it could do. _What big claws it had..._

It was raining and she was listening to the tinkling of water hitting her window. She wrapped her shawl around her shoulders tighter. It was getting so cold now. The last of the fields had been harvested weeks ago, over half of which had been given to the King. Frost was collecting on the windows at night and she awoke most mornings with a numb nose. Her family would be lucky to survive the coming winter. Her father had been particularly cruel to everyone the last few weeks. Sansa, as always, more so.

Outside, she heard the sound of a wagon approaching. She stood up and peered out of the window and saw that her father was already outside, calling out to it. Sansa turned and quickly grabbed a cloak, rushing down the stairs, through the front door, and into the yard. Her family did not get many visitors.

Her sisters came dashing out only moments after Sansa had joined her father. Sansa squinted to see through the rain, and realized that it wasn’t a wagon at all, it was a carriage! She was suddenly anxious. _What if it’s the King? What if he was not pleased with the crops! Will he punish father? Make us all slaves?_ Her mind had begun to run wild until a giggle interrupted her train of thoughts. Her sisters seemed to be excited. Jeyne was smiling broadly. Surely they were hoping for an invitation to a royal ball. _Why would the King just squander away his reserves before winter on a feast? Surely he could not be so ostentatious._

Ned Stark stepped up to open the carriage door once it had come to a stop in front of them all. Sansa was not sure who she had expected to see come out of the carriage, but it was not at all the man she saw emerging now. He was only slightly taller than Sansa, had dark brown hair just starting to go grey and he was a little thick around the waist. He was dressed rather plainly. She had never seen him before. He looked completely out of place riding in such a fine carriage. He brought no servants to attend him, only the carriage driver, which struck Sansa as very odd. Ned clapped him on the back and began ushering the man inside the cottage. Sansa’s sisters followed behind, looking puzzled. _They do not know this man either._ Sansa followed Jeyne and Arya inside, and could not quite shake a sense of foreboding.

 

 

Sansa’s father called to his daughters, “Ladies! Come here please, sit down!” he motioned for them to be seated across from them, his arms were stiff and swift, unnatural. He seemed anxious. They all sat down while Grace appeared with mugs of hot spiced tea.

“M’Lord,” Grace bowed to the plain man, offering him a mug, and Sansa couldn’t be certain, but she could have sworn she saw his face flush at the gesture. The stranger gratefully drank from his cup and sighed contentedly, thanking Grace as she retreated back into the kitchen.

Ned cleared his throat and looked at each of his daughters in turn as they sipped at the steaming cups. A long moment passed. Jeyne was smiling queerly and Arya looked wary and confused. Sansa wore her usual mask of impassiveness she had cultivated throughout the years.

Finally, their father introduced his guest, “Ladies, this is Arthur Doumont, we met just over a fortnight ago.”

He looked to Arthur, who nodded and gave him a small encouraging smile. Ned nodded as well, then swallowed and continued. “Now girls, please remember, everything I have ever done has been for the good of this family, now comes the time for you to do your duty to this family as well.”

Sansa’s father cleared his throat again, and looked at each of his daughters. “Arthur has come here today, to ask for one of your hands in marriage.” He stated it with finality and unnerving coldness, Sansa knew there would be no dissuading him. Her stomach began to twist. Jeyne and Arya’s eyes widened and they both began to protest at once. Sansa sat where she was, completely still and calm on the surface, but the dreadful feeling began creeping deeper under her skin.

Ned roared and leapt to his feet, his eyes wide and terrifying. “How dare you insult our guest!”

Jeyne and Arya quieted at once. Ned sat down and tried to rein in his temper, fists clenching and unclenching. “Now, this good man, Arthur, has proposed a substantial bride-price for one of you. Bloody unbelievable if you ask me! This could not have come at a better time. Winter is coming. This will ensure the safety of our family!” He must not have liked what he saw staring back at him after his speech. He clenched his teeth and bit out, “You will do your duty.”

Jeyne was holding back tears, Arya set her jaw, crossed her arms, and glared at Arthur. Sansa had not moved even an inch since she had sat down, the mug of tea was warm and foreign in her hands.

Arthur did not seem very insulted if you asked Sansa, he just sat right where he was, staring at her. Deep down, she had known the whole time. Jeyne stopped crying and Arya had a smug smile on her face directed at Sansa. Everyone was looking at her.

Arthur finally spoke, “The red head’s the one.”

Ned held Sansa‘s gaze for a heartbeat or two, and if there was an apology in those steel eyes, she could not find one. He stood and spoke, “Sansa, you will go and pack your things, Arthur and I have some things to discuss before you depart.”

Sansa wanted to do as she was told, but her legs weren’t cooperating, she was glued to the spot. She was stunned. In only a matter of moments, her life had been uprooted. Arthur was still looking at her. _This is all so incredibly odd._ Sansa’s eyes never left her father‘s, whose jaw was set, his eyes raw.

Finally the spell was broken and she turned her head to look at Jeyne who was staring at Sansa with pity, Arya had the nerve to smile triumphantly at her. Sansa looked down at her hands clutching the tea in her lap. _I wont cry. Not here. I wont._ Suddenly, she stood, tea and all, and forced her legs to carry her upstairs.

 

 

She stood in the middle of her room and took a shuddering breath. She did not want to leave with that strange man, it seems she has no choice whatsoever. She looked around, hesitating, not sure where to start. Attempting to keep her breath steady and even.

Grace appeared in her doorway, “Sansa…” She said. Sansa turned and looked at Grace. She couldn’t hold back the tears any longer. Grace had always been kind to her. “Oh Grace! How can Father do this? It’s not fair!” She cried. Grace rushed to her side shushing and smoothing her hair “No, indeed not m’lady, but you’re not the first young girl to be sold to the highest bidder, and you won’t be the last, no doubt.” Grace was brusque, but she meant well. “Best do what you must, m‘lady. Everything will be all right. You’ll see. No one can hurt you more than already been done.“ Grace was right. Her family only barely tolerated her. She had love in her heart for them, yes, but they had never treated her like family ought to at all. _What is truly worth staying here for? Perhaps Arthur is a good man._

Sansa dried her eyes, lifted her chin and nodded to her trunk, “Grace, bring my trunk, please.”

 

 

Sansa’s belongings were tucked away in her trunk and one small bag in no time at all, much to her unease. Her father, Arya, Jeyne, Fat Tom, Grace and of course, Arthur, were all outside when she made it down into the yard. The rain had stopped, but it was muddy and quite cold. Arthur was waiting outside the carriage, holding the door open for Sansa. Her trunk was being loaded onto the carriage by the driver and her father. She stood there for a moment in her warmest cloak, clutching her small bag, staring at Arthur’s outstretched, calloused hand. She turned back toward her family, nodded her goodbye, lifted her chin, took Arthur’s hand and climbed into the carriage.

 

 

In the end, Sansa could not avoid taking a look back at her family and the only home she‘s ever known. The sight of it disappearing through the trees made her heart clench and shrivel in her chest. She was still more than a little stunned by the morning’s whole turn of events. Her mind was full of questions she was too scared to ask. The ride was rather silent, neither she, nor Arthur, made any attempt at conversation. She could not say she minded all that much.

The carriage wound it’s way through the forest, through the hills and valleys, and then slowly into the western mountains. It was then, as the sun began to set, when Arthur began to look sick. He had been sweating quite badly for some time now, making the cabin air hard to breathe. Sansa had inquired after his distressed state several times, to which her only answer had been a weak nod. It was all very confusing. _If he is my husband to be, why would he not wish to speak with me the entire ride? What is the matter?_ Sansa sighed and directed her gaze out of the small side window, the sun was sinking behind mountains, it was a beautiful view really. The tips of the mountain peaks were glowing pink and orange in the fading light. The last of the sunlight filtered through the trees. She continued to watch until the world went dark and stars began to twinkle in the black velvet sky.

Arthur had just finished lighting a lantern. Sansa stared at the perspiring, plain looking man across from her, and could not hold her tongue any longer.

“My Lord? Are you well? What is the matter? When will we arrive? Are we going to stop somewhere for the night? Please answer me!” The questions she had been holding at bay the entire day poured from her mouth at once. She composed herself quickly after her outburst, and asked as politely as she could, “Please, My Lord, can you tell me where we are going?”

Arthur answered her right away. “To The Keep, M’lady. Or that was what it was called at one time. It’s just a shabby old castle now. Hard to keep up with the upkeep, if you know what I mean, just me, Seline, and Boros to take care of all that castle, well and there’s M’Lord of course, but we try not to bother him too much. He usually prefers his own company.”

Sansa sat up. “What do you mean?” She asked. She had assumed Arthur was her Lord husband to be, despite the fact he didn‘t act nor look very Lordly. Arthur raised his eyebrows, and dabbed at the sweat on his brow with a handkerchief. He looked at her seriously. “Your father didn‘t say nothin' to ya?” Sansa shook her head and Arthur seemed angry. “Makes no sense! It was my daughter? Seems I’d tell her sooner rather than later. Women are gentle folk… you can’t just throw such things on them, Hells anyone would need to prepare their mind for a situation of this sort.” Arthur shook his head. 

“Well, most young girls know they will be married off to someone eventually…” Sansa replied. 

“I s’pose that’s true enough M’Lady, still, most of them know a little somethin' bout it beforehand. You don‘t even know the man you‘re going to marry!”

Sansa didn't understand, “But My Lord, I thought… Are you not to be my husband?”

Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise, “Oh Gods no M’lady! The Master sent me to your father. Said he’d pay your weight in gold!” Sansa was stunned. _My weight in gold? That can't be true!_ Arthur snapped her out of her thoughts. “If I may speak freely...” When Sansa didn’t say anything he leaned forward and continued. “I can’t say this situation sits quite right with me, but I can’t do nothin' bout it neither. If it was up to me though, you’d be home safe, curled up in bed. For what it’s worth, I‘m sorry M‘lady.” He reached over, smiled, and patted her hand, then sat back in his seat, wiping his brow again. “We’ll be there short like M’lady. The Master’s not so bad once you get to know him. You’ll see.”


	6. Chapter 6

_Baby I'm preying on you tonight_  
_Hunt you down eat you alive_

_Just like animals, animals, like animals_

_Maybe you think that you can hide_  
_I can smell your scent for miles_

_Just like animals, animals, like animals_

_No girl don't lie_  
_You can't deny_  
_The beast inside_

_\- Maroon 5 - Animals_

Sansa was only briefly impressed with the Keep at a distance, but every wheel turn closer she grew a bit more frightened. It might have been very grand at one time, but was in a terrible state of dilapidation now. The whole outer wall was covered in thick ivy, and the stonework had collapsed in several places. The trees lining the overgrown cobbled road hung low and Sansa imagined dozens of bony fingers clutching at the carriage as they rolled toward the castle itself. She shivered as she tried to clear her overactive imagination and calm her pounding pulse with deep even breaths.

As the castle loomed nearer Sansa saw even more signs of neglect. The gardens looked eerily similar to the pictures of jungles from her storybooks as a child. Several gargoyles had fallen to the ground, some smashed to pieces but others still mostly intact, threatening sentinels in the darkness. They unsettled her more than she cared to admit.

A sour faced man with a thin smile and hard eyes greeted Sansa as she exited the carriage at the bottom of the steps that led up to the castle doorway. His hand was clammy as she grasped it and descended the carriage steps. He held only a single torch to keep the dark at bay. Introducing himself as Boros with a slight bow and an ill disguised smirk spreading across his face, he gestured for Sansa to continue on as the carriage driver helped Arthur with her trunk. Sansa took a deep breath and took comfort in the thought that at least Arthur seemed like a nice man and spoke favorably of his lord, even if this man before her made her feel uneasy. Sansa did her best to put her fears aside as she climbed the few stairs up to the doorway, where she slowly let the darkness swallow her.

There was hardly any light inside the castle, a sconce was lit here and there but mostly Sansa walked in shadows. She saw nothing that looked new or even repaired. Everything was falling apart, tapestries were tattered and moth eaten. Curtains were frayed and flimsy, if not out right torn to shreds. Many of the doors barely hung on their hinges, and some rooms didn't have any doors at all. Rugs were worn to bare threads in the middle. It looked to be clean and dry at least, from what she could see, there were no cobwebs or any dust collecting in corners, no smell of must or decay.

Boros led Sansa to what looked like newly built and oddly thick, quite solid, pair of doors in the farthest part of the left wing of the castle. He paused in front of them, turned his head to look at her with that same sly smile that was beginning to unnerve her. He opened the heavy doors slowly with what looked like some effort. He stepped to the side of her so she could enter the room.

There were many candles lit sporadically around the spacious room. It was warm and inviting, so very different from the rest of the castle. It was furnished with all new pieces, she could smell the fresh cut wood and varnish, and a hint of lavender under that. Sansa was rather surprised. To her right was the bed, and it was absolutely beautiful, large, ornately carved posts, with a canopy overhead that almost reached the ceiling. It looked wonderfully comfortable, piled high with soft pillows and pale furs. She walked to the middle of the room and spun slowly around in awe. Directly across from the doors, by two large windows that sported heavy new drapes, was a brand new wardrobe, and even appeared to contain a few dresses already. A fine desk and chair that matched the bed and wardrobe to the right of that, paper and quill already placed on top, which delighted Sansa immensely. To the left of the wardrobe was a large full length mirror stationed beside a dresser that held a large washbasin, a lovely jade green comb and brush, even a few pretty hair pins. She had never had such fine things before. Someone had gone to quite a lot of trouble to make her feel welcome. Sansa was not sure how to feel about that. She was certainly impressed, but also a bit skeptical.

Boros cleared his throat from the doorway behind her. "I take it the Lady is pleased?" Sansa was speechless, so she just nodded and smiled. "Well then, you get settled in quickly now, M'Lord has requested you join him for the evening meal. When you are ready, I will escort you, M'Lady."

Boros closed the door with the same lazy bow once her trunk had been delivered inside by Arthur and the carriage driver, leaving Sansa alone. She was still clutching her small bag of odds and ends, pictures she had drawn, her diary, a necklace of her mother's, some ribbons and a sewing kit, all things a young girl might hold dear.

Sansa sucked in a great big gulp of air, suddenly feeling like the world was going to slip from beneath her feet at any moment. She was not quite sure what she had expected, but this was certainly not it. She wondered who this mysterious man was that had searched the country just to purchase a wife he had never met before… She was still a little frightened, but now she was also incredibly curious. Her nerves were wound so tightly though, she wasn't sure if she was going to cry or not from all her confusing thoughts and feelings. She stood pondering her situation for a moment, struggling between dismay and steely determination.

Determination finally won out and Sansa made her way over to the washbasin to freshen up. The water was still pleasantly warm and had flowers and lavender floating in it. The smell was wonderful and she inhaled deeply as she brought the cloth to her face, the warmth was soothing. She took her time and appreciated such a thoughtful gesture. She sighed as the aroma of lavender worked its charms and calmed her some.

After Sansa had washed away all the grime from her journey she pattered over to the wardrobe and took out a soft pink dress. It was pure silk, and the loveliest dress she had ever seen. It's layers were lined with pale cream lace and the sleeves were puffed and ruffled at the shoulders. An elaborate and beautiful neckline. It was a dress fit for a princess and Sansa uttered a sound of pure delight as she twirled around in it, admiring the way she looked in the mirror. It fit her surprisingly well but she had trouble binding the laces as well as she would have liked all by herself. For a fleeting but powerful moment she missed her sisters terribly, but she quickly put it out of her mind. She must get through this evening without tears. Later, once she was back here, she would absorb everything the day had brought, if tears came as well, so be it, but not until then.

Sansa then set to the task of doing something presentable with her hair. She put half of it up, using one of the hair pins, in what she hoped was a flattering style, as she was not used to doing anything other than a simple plait down her back. She brushed the rest of her red curls into waves that flowed down her back and shoulders. She decided she looked as acceptable as she was going to get, clasped on her mother's necklace, and turned to the doors. She wondered what they were made out of, as she had to pull with all of her might to open them, for a brief moment she thought she was locked in, but soon realized the door could only be bolted from the inside, no key hole at all. A detail she did not overlook that left her feeling rather comforted.

Boros was waiting outside her door and looked relieved once she finally emerged. "Hurry now M'Lady, the master is sure to be growing impatient by now." Sansa had forgotten he had told her to hurry, she had gotten lost playing with her appearance, not being used to such experiences as her sisters were. With a pang of regret she finally saw the appeal of it all and wished she could have shared their enthusiasm when she had the chance. "I'm sorry for the delay, I only wanted to look presentable for our lord, ser…" Sansa trailed off, blushing fiercely, and lowered her eyes. Boros quickly and greedily raked his eyes over Sansa as her eyes were lowered. "Never mind that now, let's be off then!" He promptly turned and began to quickly stride down the hall, she had to hurry to keep up with him.

As they neared what must be the dining hall, Sansa's stomach started doing flips. She was so nervous, her stomach was in such turmoil, she hoped she would be able to eat once she was seated. She absentmindedly wrung her hands together in front of her. Boros finally stopped in front of two of the largest doors she had seen in the entire castle. Sansa's stomach jumped to her throat. _This is it._

It seemed to Sansa that everything now moved in slow motion. Boros' outstretched hands clasping the intricate handle of the doors. The way they ever so slowly opened on the scene before her. The warmth of the hall whooshing past her. Her feet dragging, feeling as though they were made of lead, she slowly followed Boros inside, every hesitant step bringing her closer and yet closer still. Once her eyes finally focused on the man at the far end of the table, her sudden gasp of breath was heard clearly in the utter stillness of the hall.


	7. Chapter 7

If Sansa's nerves had been fraying before, they were completely shot now. Her brain was failing to function, so many thoughts were firing off at once. She was terribly confused at first. _At least this man is not exactly a stranger,_ she thought for one insane moment. _But, why would he do all this? Go to such trouble? And what is that? Something is wrong with his face..._ There seemed to be a shadow covering the entire right side of his face. _Is that a mask?_ Sansa could not clearly tell from where she stood. Her feet had decided to take root on the spot and would not bring her any further into the warm bright hall, which she noticed looked well cared for, unlike the rest of the castle.

Sansa had recognized him immediately of course. His build alone like no man she had ever met before, his long dark hair, and the sharp angles of his face were easily distinguishable. The longer she stared though, the shadow on his face did not seem very much like a shadow, as she had thought at first. He gestured for Boros to leave the room, the shadow shone in the firelight, moving with his motions.

Sandor Clegane stood as soon as the heavy doors were shut.

"Hello, Sansa."

He greeted her as he casually moved around the large table, with a surprising amount of grace for such a large man. His voice was the rasping rumble she remembered. Equally deep and harsh, although she could tell he was trying to talk softly. Sansa remained paralyzed, feeling how an animal must feel when finding itself caught in a hunter's trap, he slowly came stalking toward her. As he came near, she saw that indeed, the shadow was not a mask, but truly a part of his face. It had been horribly disfigured. Red, and marbled with ridges and grooves. The wound looked angry, like it could still be fresh. It reminded her of… _No. No that can't possibly…_ Until suddenly he was towering over her, near enough for her to see clearly, just a tiny hint of bone near his jaw. She felt like she couldn't breathe. Her mind balked. _That's, that's impossible!_ She looked down at the ground, unable to face the meaning behind his terrible scars.

Sansa tried to reject what she knew in her heart already to be true. It was the only thing that made any sense, in an odd, horrifying way. Why he hadn't been wearing clothes that night, why he hadn't been frightened or even disturbed. The smell of the beast that had lingered. Even giving reason to why he had kept turning his face away from her. She honestly felt ignorant for not figuring it out sooner. Especially after the creature had visited her home. _How else would it… He… have known where to find me? Gods Sansa! You utter fool!_

Sansa had, of course, heard of such strange creatures before; dragons, skin changers, witches, white walkers, wargs, and werewolves… but had only thought them to be part of the tales told to small children. Meant to keep them out of trouble. The idea that maybe they weren't as fanciful as she thought made her shiver. He must have misunderstood.

"There's no need to be frightened. I won't hurt you."

The breath Sansa hadn't realized she'd been holding whooshed out of her. She drew in another raggedly. Cautiously, as one would move to avoid spooking an already frightened animal, he slowly placed his fingers under her chin and gently but firmly lifted her head to meet his eyes. They were steely and intense, but held truth, _and perhaps even apprehension_? They locked eyes for a long moment. Her heart was pounding at such a pace she wondered if it would burst from her chest. _He must certainly be able to hear it…_ She could not help the flush that crept up her chest, neck, and face. Then, as if reading her thoughts, the good side of his face crept into a knowing smile, the result was positively wicked. She had to suppress another shiver. She hoped her face did not give her thoughts away.

Sansa dropped her eyes again, but finally found the courage to speak. "F-Forgive me my Lord."

Sandor's brows furrowed, "What is there to forgive girl?"

"I, I… Well, this is all just so very much to take in Ser. I am a little out of sorts at the moment. P-please forgive me for not greeting you properly." Sansa curtsied quickly and awkwardly. Unable to meet the severity of his gaze or the awful wreckage of his face, her eyes were now level with his broad chest, glued to the ties of his tunic that she could see peeking out from under his modest overcoat.

Sandor turned slightly, hiding his burns from her, the cords in his neck standing out with tension. She could see the pulse point in his neck throbbing steadily amidst the course black hair there. "I'm no Ser, Sansa, there's no need to curtsy or any of that court shit, I'm no pampered king, you'll not treat me as such." His rough tone and the sharpness of his words surprised Sansa, and she blinked, looking up at him for a moment before returning her eyes to the floor once more. She could say nothing, and he continued on, softer this time. "I'm sure this is all a bit much for you. Arthur mentioned that your father had not told you of our… arrangement. Would have been better all around if he had, of course. Can't do much about it now I'm afraid. I take it you at least found your… welcome, to be sufficient? The room to your liking?"

Sansa peeked up at him, and it was easier now that she could not see the ruined side of his face as well, his eyes were focused on the roaring fireplace instead of on her. It gave her courage. She had to wonder if he was more interested in how she felt about her room than he was trying to show. He had gone to such trouble for her after all, that was apparent. "Why yes my Lord! The room? It was so beautiful! You have been so very kind Ser, thank you." Her smile was timid, but genuine. He had turned to look at her once more and nodded, seemingly satisfied. The blaze in his eyes dying down some. She relaxed a bit, and he did as well. The tension between them that had tied itself in knots loosening just like that.

"Have a seat." It was not a request. Sandor offered her a chair near his, but not too near, which Sansa appreciated. She obeyed and sat down, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that the first time she had come across him, he was a monstrous wolf set on devouring her, and now seemed… almost gentlemanly.

"I had Seline prepare a small feast for your arrival, I hope you like it. There isn't as much to offer of course, with the King's bloody war and all." His voice raising a notch at the end, his hand clenching into a fist. His obvious distaste for the war made her feel peculiarly at ease, something normal and familiar.

Sansa's eyes took in the food spread before her and all at once she was ravenous. She realized she had not eaten since this morning, before leaving her home. Her stomach rumbled loudly. Sandor's damaged lips twitched, suppressing a smile, and she turned a bright shade of red. She wished, and not for the last time, that her face would quit betraying her. She did not dwell on it long though, the smells from the food making her mouth water.

There were two roasted chickens dressed with herbs and root vegetables. A stew of pork swimming in beets, turnips, and potatoes. Beans in butter, a fresh loaf of dark bread, figs, dates, and even some custard! Sansa clasped her hands together in delight. "This looks wonderful my Lord!" Her fears and worries forgotten for the moment. She had not had such fine fare in so long. Even before the war had begun so many months ago.

As if on cue, an older woman with a heavy bosom sauntered through a door she had not noticed concealed in the wall ahead of her. Seline, she assumed, came around and dished Sansa a bit of everything. "Thank you." Sansa told her after she had moved on to dish Sandor's meal, and with a slight bow of her head, Seline left them alone once again.

Sansa hesitated only a moment and then began eating with relish. Small noises of satisfaction escaped her lips every so often. After a time, she realized Sandor was not eating and looked up from her plate, he was watching her intently. The weight of it made her stomach suddenly do a flip. She had stopped eating and stared back at him, unable to pull her eyes away from his.

"Go on, you look to be enjoying yourself." Sandor smiled and the result was gruesome. She still somehow managed to blush. _I wish I would stop doing that! He makes me feel like a child._ She had forgotten herself in her hunger and the richness of the food, its just she had not eaten this good in so long. _I hope he does not think me unmannerly…_

As daintily as she could she wiped grease from her mouth with a cloth, and continued her meal, this time savoring every bite. The custard was absolutely delicious. Lemon flavored. She made a note to tell Seline how delicious it was when she got the chance.

"My Lord, that was by far the best meal I've had in ages! You are much too kind." Satiated at last, she sat upright in her seat, looking at Sandor. After some time Sansa realized she was staring, the scars were unsettling. She made an effort to focus on the good side of his face, and tried to elicit a conversation. "My lord, where did you manage to get lemons? That custard was amazing."

Sandor's silence during the meal had not really bothered her, but he was not responding to her now. It was beginning to be rather unnerving. He had barely touched any of his food, and he was still staring at her in that strange way. _As if he wants to eat me instead._ The thought was not so preposterous as it may seem. She had so many questions, but did not know if she should ask them. _He may not know that I know what he is. That I saw both his faces. What would he do if I did know? Would he care?_ She was uncertain, and decided not to speak of it unless he spoke of it first.

The silence stretched on before them. Sansa tried hard not to yawn and was beginning to fidget. As she was about to finally speak again, Sandor did instead. "You must be very tired. I'll get Boros to escort you back to your room." Sansa's face fell. It did not go unnoticed. "Or I could escort you myself, of course?" Sansa nodded and smiled weakly, relieved, and also a little amused that she would prefer this… wolf-man, over one of his servants. Sandor's presence was intense and frightening, but did not make her feel… unclean. She would prefer to see Boros as little as possible.

Sandor did not offer his arm to her, as any other suitor would. He walked just a step or two behind her the whole way. It was odd and made her feel a little awkward. _Everything he does is so strange._

Once they reached her door, Sansa turned to face him. He had stayed behind, keeping to the shadows, only a single candle was burning this far down the hallway, right beside her door. All she could see was the light it cast reflected in his eyes. She was at a loss for words, and was growing quite tiresome of it all. Feeling as though she could not steady herself or get a firm grip on anything. She was on a ship lost at sea, stormy waves crashing her back every time she found her footing. Her frustration spurred her on, she resorted to a mask of cold courtesy.

"Thank you, My Lord, this evening was… it was… I will never forget it." She flashed a brief tight smile and turned abruptly. Sansa was struggling with her door, she could not open it. She was growing increasingly flustered by the second, when out of nowhere his hand reached out of the darkness to cover hers. She instinctively snatched her hand away. The door opened easily in his grasp. She looked up at him exasperated. He kept doing things that constantly kept her on edge. One minute he was not speaking to her, and the next he was right next to her, helping her. The few words he had spoken were harsh one moment and civil the next. _Is he doing this on purpose?!_

Sansa didn't know what to think anymore, she didn't want to think at all. All she wanted was to fall into a black dreamless sleep. Her self control was wavering, the strain of the whole day had taken it's toll on her. Tears were forming in her eyes and she fought to keep them from falling. She finally bid him a frosty goodnight and entered her new chambers, but before the door closed she heard him speak from outside. "Bar the door Sansa. Sleep well."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's taken me so long to update! Sadly, this chapter is a bit shorter than I'd like. Still, I hope you enjoy it!

_Gods! What the fuck am I doing?!_ Sandor asked himself for at least the ten thousandth time since the wretched idea had formed in his thrice damned skull late one night as he paced his chambers, much like a caged animal, which he often found himself doing after darkness settled in, along with the restlessness.

The whole thing had gone quite a bit better than he had expected. _At least she hadn't run away screaming, just stood there gulping air like a toad. Still, not surprising, she could barely stand to look at me._ Although he knew the whole debacle was damned from the start, since meeting her those few months ago, he hadn't been able to keep her out of his head, awake or dreaming. Before he knew it, every time he had gone on a hunt, he had found himself pacing those same woods on the outskirts of her home, hoping to come across her again. Eventually, he always forced himself to turn back, fighting his instincts to turn around and snatch her from her bed the whole way. Some strange force pulled him to her and he was helpless in its clutches. He knew he had to have her one way or the other, lest she haunt him the rest of his life. Even now she haunted him, as he sat down heavily on his bed. Her delicate pale face floating into his mind's eye.

He still had the scent of her swirling about his head. Sweetness and wild flowers, honey and lavender. She still smelled absolutely fucking delicious, and it still called madly to both he and his wolf. Unbidden images suddenly flashed through his head, a river of red hair, peaks and valleys of pale skin, diving into lakes of crystal blue. His skin prickled and blood rushed to his member. All those damned nights he had found himself outside her home seemed to have built up a sort of tolerance to her scent. And he was loath to admit, an addiction. He had come to realize it wasn't just the wolf's pure bloodlust that drew him to the girl. It was more than that. It was primal, almost out of his control, and it scared him more than he let himself believe. All these years he's lived in a semblance of peace. He had been content. _Until this damned bloody girl! Just one fucking little girl and you come undone_! He almost hated her for what she'd unknowingly unleashed in him. She had awakened something inside of him. Something he had tried in vain to put back to rest. He had sought other women's comfort, hoping it was just an urge to mate. These couplings made him feel ashamed and foul. He had forgotten how hollow such an endeavor left him. The feelings seemed to resonate even more so, _since… Her. Gods damn her!_

He suddenly stood up and began to pace once again, he didn't want to think anymore on what all this truly meant. The whole situation gnawed at his guts just the same. He could control the beast around her without much effort at all and that's all that really mattered to him. He could not lose control ever again. His wolf had fed just last night and should be content for at least a week. He really did not want to hurt her. The thought of hurting her twisted a knife in his belly and made his chest ache. But he _had_ to be near her. There was just no choice. Even now, with her here in his home, he resisted the urge to go back to her room, even if it was only to stand outside her door and listen to her breathe. _Bloody fucking fool you've become._

Sandor could still feel the quiver of her chin when he had tilted her face up to meet his. Those blue eyes confirmed everything he had already feared. _She sees me as a monster, nothing more. It was to be expected of course. But still, how the sting of it gets under my skin._

Since Sandor was just a lad, no woman or girl he had ever met had been able to keep their eyes on him for long, before turning away in disgust or horror, usually both. No one had ever looked upon his face without fear. Even whores couldn't pretend to be interested in him. He practically had to shove the coin up their sour fucking cunts. Hope is a treacherous thing, never in his life had he hoped to be seen, truly seen under his scars, than he had this night. _I'm a bloody fool. The biggest fool there ever was._

Sandor sat down on his bed again and put his head in his hands. At times like this he wished he could drink like a regular man. Drown out all his thoughts. Drink just burned right through his system, he had to down pitchers and pitchers of ale or wine to feel good and numb, not that it ever lasted very long anyway. Although there was one time in Pentos, he did have quite a bit of something they had called fire-water, that had gotten him nice and wrecked, even left his head pounding dully the next morning.

_Aye, wish I had some of that just now. But you're stuck with a head full of pretty maidens, your belly's full of gnawing rats, and your breeches are feeling much too tight. And of course you're stuck with_ her _now as well, old dog. Most like she'll fly away back home soon, like the pretty little bird she is. I'm sure she could sweet talk Arthur into taking her back. Soft old goat, that one. Perhaps that would be for the best anyhow._

Sandor sighed and kicked off his boots, then tore off his breeches and tunic. He crawled into his unmade bed, fighting off thoughts of her as he tossed and turned until dawn, when sleep finally claimed him. And still, even in sleep, she would not leave his mind.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is going to be another short one! I'm sorry folks! With the Holidays coming I'll hope you understand! More is coming to be sure! Thank you all so much for your patience and kind words!!

Chapter 9

As Sansa awoke the next morning, she almost forgot where she was. Almost. Until the heavy scent of pine filled her senses and she was reminded exactly of where she was. It was far from an unpleasant scent though, and she breathed deeply as she stretched her body. It reminded her of home, of the woods. Which left her heart feeling bruised. She tucked her feet into herself, wrapped her arms around her knees and buried her head down under the furs. She did not feel like leaving the warmth of her covers. Did not even want to leave her room, really. But that was not a practical idea. She would need to eat of course, and bathe, eventually. Not to mention it would be rather rude to her host.

Sansa's thoughts were depressing her. The same questions have been clamoring around in her head all night. _How could father have done this? Do I truly mean so little to him? Why couldn't it just have been me that died instead of mother? Save everyone all the pain. How can the gods be so cruel?_ Her eyes began to burn, threatening to spill over. She squeezed them shut. Trying to will the tears away. _I do not wish to cry anymore!_ Her eyes were already swollen and her head hurt from crying herself to sleep.

Sansa felt awful and guilty. She was not usually one to wallow in self pity. She knew that so many people were out there starving, dying, suffering fates far worse than hers. The awareness of it only added to her misery. Yet, here she sat, crying. All because she had been turned from her home, forced to marry a man ( _monster!_ ) she barely knew. _Still… Sandor has not treated me badly, in fact, he has treated me better in just one day than any of her family had in her entire life._ Sansa had grown up knowing her lot in life, and had endured it. She would endure this as well.

 _Wait. No._ A steely determination surfaced inside of her and like a drowning woman would, she snatched at it, and held on. _No. I will do more than just survive, I will make the best of this. It could always be worse of course…_ Sandor, as a man at least, did not seem as menacing. He was certainly fierce and _huge_. His scars were terrible to look upon, he could undoubtedly break her bones with ease, or rip her apart at any moment, if he felt so inclined. But, as bizarre as it was, she had trusted him when he had told her that he would not harm her. _He could not mean to… eat me, could he? After all of this? He went to such lengths to get me here, has provided me with shelter, clothes, and food. It would not make much sense otherwise. He could have just eaten me that first night if that were his wish._

Sansa had a feeling there was something else to it. She wondered. He hadn't acted as though he had fallen in love with her at first sight or anything. Not that she was sure that were possible any way. He seemed rather indifferent to her really, well, besides the hungry way he had looked at her during their meal. She was afraid she had an idea of what that really meant, she gulped and tried not to think about the stories her Nan had told her as a child, Hansel and Gretel, Red Riding Hood, The Others. Children were always being eaten in those stories.

As she was lying there, growing warm under her covers and puzzling over this strange turn of events in her life, there came a rap upon her door. Sansa sprang up and called. "Just a moment please!" She threw back her covers and hurried from the bed to throw on the dress she had arrived in, it was a much quicker process than dealing with all of the ties of the fine one she had worn last night. She hurried to her door, unbarred it and attempted the arduous task of pushing it open. Finally, after some effort, there stood Boros in her doorway, much to Sansa's displeasure.

"Good afternoon M'lady." Boros wheezed out, clearly fatigued by the trek to her room. "Afternoon?" Sansa gasped, unable to control her surprise. Boros laughed a queer, tight laugh. "Why yes, M'Lady _and_ M'Lord have both slept the morning away. Late night was it then, hmm?" Boros smiled cruelly, his meaning was not lost on Sansa and she inwardly cringed but chose to ignore the slight. "My goodness." Was all she managed to choke out, trying to hide her distaste. After a slight pause, long enough for Boros to realize she would say no more, he stated why he was here. "Well, the master has invited you to break your fast, er mid day meal as it were, with him, in the dining hall."

Sansa nodded, "Let me just change please, one moment. Would you help me with the door please?" She retreated back into her room, Sansa pulled, and Boros pushed, until finally, it was shut. _This door is absolutely ridiculous!_ Her blood was pumping with the effort as she took off her plain blue dress and went to the wardrobe, the pink one she had worn last night was hanging back inside, and there were two others, an elaborate yellow one that looked far, far too grand for a simple meal. _It looks more like a wedding gown._ She shoved down the feelings that arose when she thought of what that meant, and focused on the other dress, a rich green one, which she grasped.

After she was dressed and had done her hair in her usual braid, she stood before her door, took a deep breath and began to shove the troublesome thing open once again. Boros was waiting, and they walked in silence as she followed him to the dining hall. Just like last night, he flung open the doors and gestured for her to enter. Sandor Clegane was once again seated at the far end of the table, and as the doors closed behind her, just as before, he stood.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry it has taken me this long to get this chapter up! I'm not entirely happy with it, but I needed to get the story to move along, so that's what this is! I'm also sorry it's going to be kind of short, but most of the chapters have been short so far anyway ha ha! Thank you to everyone who has hung in there with me and been waiting for this! It makes me so happy you like my story and keeps me going! Hopefully the delay won't be as long next time!

Chapter 10

 

A wave of déjà vu washed over Sansa as Sandor rose and headed toward her. The only difference this time was that she was not petrified with fright. The only giveaway of her nerves was the racing of her heart. She managed a thin smile as he came up to her, offering his arm to escort her the rest of the way, which she took gingerly. 

Sandor was radiating warmth through his light colored woolen tunic, the unfamiliar contact made her heart gallop even faster, Sansa prayed he could not hear it. He held her chair out and pushed her in when she sat, then made his way back to his own large, ornate chair. Sansa noticed that there were two vicious looking wolves carved into the armrests, which perturbed her. She looked in his general direction expectantly, at a loss for words. She was still wary of looking directly at his disfigured face. He made no conversation though, and was just sitting there staring back at her, when Seline came through the concealed doorway carrying a large tray with two bowls of thick porridge, bacon, and warm bread. She set Sansa’s meal down first, then Sandor’s, and promptly left them. An awkward silence settled over them when neither one made a move. 

Finally, Sandor began eating his food, unlike last night. Sansa was surprised to find this relieved her immensely. Feeling the tension abate just a little, Sansa took small, tentative bites of her food, not wanting to make a display of herself as she had last night. Sansa realized halfway through her meal that she had been stealing glances at the man seated just a few places down the whole time. This man that had turned her world upside down, and now held it there, suspended, at his leisure. Heat began to creep up her face. Whether it was from anger or embarrassment, she couldn’t quite differentiate from the two.

Sandor finished his food quickly and sat back in his chair, almost lounging, while picking gristle from his teeth with a small piece of wood. Sansa could feel the weight of his gaze on her, but now she could not bring herself to look up. She finished her food and delicately dabbed at her face with a napkin. After scanning the bare table for a few moments, she finally raised her eyes to meet his. His scars were awful, and the burning look was there again, she was unable to look away. Sandor raised his eyebrows and Sansa quickly averted her gaze once more. The redness of her skin turning yet another shade deeper, bordering on purple now. Her frustration was rising. 

Since meeting Sandor, she had been more unsure than she had been in her entire life. She was used to her father and sisters cruelty. She was used to her village, and the men folk there, their boisterous ways. She had never met anyone like this man, he was quiet, contemplative, stony, and brash. She was on edge every moment in his presence. It was exhausting! She simply did not know what to do, or how to act. Take into account his ruined face, and the terrible creature she knew lurked beneath, she was surprised she was not scared half to death constantly. She was reassured only by the fact that he seemed to have gone to so much trouble to make this… situation, comfortable for her, well, as comfortable as could be, under the strange circumstances. 

Sansa finally decided to speak and break the unpleasant silence, “My Lord, I thank you for the meal. It was quite satisfying. I have not had bacon since the beginning of the war.”

When she looked up at him again she was very surprised to see that he was scowling and his grey eyes were dark and stormy. She was not sure what she had said or done to offend him. “I - I, I do apologize Ser, if I said anything to your displeasure.” She lowered her gaze to her lap. 

Sandor stood abruptly, his chair screeching noisily, “I’m not a Ser or a Lord! Stop with your pretty chirping and false courtesy. I told you, none of that shite here! And shut it with the empty pleasantries! We both know you no more want to be here than the King would spare a crumb of bread to a beggar!” 

Sansa was taken aback by his outburst. Not sure what to do, tears filled her eyes, but she willed them away with all her strength, clenching her fists with the effort. She did not want him to see her cry. 

Suddenly, Sansa was very angry and could not keep the bite from her voice, “ I am sorry, Ser, I was only trying to make conversation, which you seem unable to do. If you would rather sit alone in silence, so be it.” Sansa rose from her chair with all the haughty grace she could muster and quickly made her way to the doors. 

She was only slightly surprised to find Boros just outside. He jumped back as she stormed past. “M’Lady?” He called after her, but she ignored him and continued on towards her room by herself. Neither man tried to stop her. 

Once she had made it to her room, she pulled the door open with all her might, struggling just a bit, then she heaved it shut, bolting the door behind her. Safely inside, she noticed her hands trembled slightly. _I was lucky he did not lunge after me! What a horrible temper that man has! How rude! I was only trying to be polite!_

Sansa was beyond frustrated now. She flung off her dress, and threw herself onto the bed. Moments later, the bitter tears came. She was not sure if she could do this, spend the rest of her life with another brute. _At least he has not hit me yet. Not that that’s much of a consolation. I wish Grace were here… she would offer me some comfort._

Sansa wept until there was nothing left, and finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa is still determined to make her situation work out favorably, despite her reservations.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back! Thanks to a recent comment bringing this story once again to my attention, I am picking up where I left off after a year.

Chapter 11

 

Sansa sits looking out of the window at a never ending sea of white. Needlework sits idly in her lap. Pale gray light fills the room. Winter has finally come. The snow is piled high against the walls of the keep, it reaches to the bottom of the window outside, which is four stories tall alone. Sansa, being the summer child she is, already wishes for the sun to return. _But they say this will be our longest winter yet._

At first the snow was magical. Sansa played in it much like the child she was not so long ago. She built a snow castle, made snow angels, and threw snowballs at Boros and Arthur when they would walk by to feed the animals, or whatever errand they were currently on. 

Sandor hardly ever accompanied her outside, but she found he would watch her often. She could always tell when he was watching, even before she saw him. She could just feel his eyes on her. Her skin would tingle, turn hot, and sure enough, when she would eventually look up (never right away for a reason she could not admit to herself) she would spot him standing sentry, as fearsome and brooding as one of his gargoyles. She was not sure how she felt about that. 

Sandor and Sansa fell into a strange sort of routine in the weeks that followed her arrival. Despite the fact that they share nearly every meal together, they seldom talked. Sandor is not very good at small talk, Sansa concluded some time ago. He would brush off every polite attempt she made. So Sansa soon gave up. When she does eventually manage to coax a conversation out of him, his favored mode of communication appears to be gutteral grunts and beastly growls. ( _How fitting_ , she thinks sardonically). He only really forms words to let her know when he is leaving. _He leaves rather often..._ So, Sansa having free run of the castle most days, took it upon herself to see that the keep be fixed up a bit before winter set in for good. She would not be able to stand the dreary feel of the place all winter long. She would go mad. 

Sandor had said to Sansa one evening, after she had commented on the state of the place, that she could do with it as she wished. "Paint it up all pink with bows and lace if you like, just keep well away from MY bloody chambers, girl." Otherwise, anything she needed, he told her, she could have. Excited to have a project to occupy her time, the very next day Sansa had begun. She commissioned Arthur to head to town for a large supply of textiles and fabrics, yarn, needles, thread and a loom. She sent Boros to seek out the carpenter who had made the furnishings for her room and put in an order for several new doors where there were none, a bureau, some tables for empty spaces in the hallways as well as a few other places here and there. New chairs for the parlor, and a setee for the sitting room. She would have all winter to make tapestries and curtains, pillows, all manner of new decorations, anything she could think of, really. Feeling guilty though, Sansa had hesitantly asked Sandor if it was too much beforehand, but he had reassured her it that was fine. "Been far too long since this place looked well and proper. Do what you wish. I trust you." 

Sansa felt oddly proud at his faith in her, they did not know each other very well, after all, and he was proving so very difficult to understand. In fact, Sansa spent a good deal of her time trying to figure out what must go on in his mind. Not that she liked to admit that to herself, of course. 

 

Every day eventually got a little colder, a little darker, and soon, the snows began to fall. They were sporadic at first, but soon the storms came stronger and the snows grew ever deeper, until leaving the castle became too difficult. By then Sansa had every room aired out, the old heavy drapes had been pulled down and repurposed elsewhere. She hung fresh, sheer linens to frame the windows and had Boros fix all the broken candle fixtures. Darkness was soon banished from the castle. Now that there was light, it didn't feel so suffocating, and Sansa was oddly content despite everything.

As the days passed, Sansa usually sat quietly beside the window in the sitting room, reading, working on her little projects, or just lost in her thoughts. She often wondered how her family was faring, and hoped they missed her, even just a little. 

One day, as she was working on sewing a scene of a small bird flying in the summer sunshine, Sandor sought her out. His visits to this side of the castle were seldom, as it was, Sansa was more than a little surprised he was paying her a visit. As usual, she felt his presence long before he made it known, so when he walked into her line of view as quiet as could be and cleared his throat, she was not startled. She smiled politely as she looked up from her needlework, but right away, noticed the scowl he usually wore was in place. _Perhaps his face must have frozen that way_ , just as her Nan had warned hers would when she pouted as a small child.

After looking at him expectantly for a time, Sansa's brow furrowed. "Hello Sandor, is there something I can do for you?" He cleared his throat once again, smoothed his hands down his chest as he spoke. "Right. No. Ehem. Sansa, come with me, I have something to show you." It was not exactly a request. He turned around and was already walking away, so Sansa set her project down and hurried after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the lack of updates for so long! I hope people are still interested in this story. I am still all aboard this train! I just have so little time to write these days! I am sorry this chapter isn't very long, I just needed to get the story moving! More to come soon, I promise!


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm hoping you know what this scene is going to be. Hehe.

Sandor quickly strode down the hallway, and up a large winding staircase, he could hear the girl's skirts rustling as she hurried to keep up with his pace. He wanted to turn around and see how she looked, huffing and puffing after him. But he forced himself to just keep going. _Wonder what the bloody Hells women wear those cumbersome things for anyway!_

He was nervous. From the moment he had brought the girl here he had realized what a mistake it had been. He hasn't felt this unsure in ages. He has no idea how to treat a young maiden. He has lived alone so long he has no clue how to even hold a decent conversation, which he can plainly see disturbs her. He doesn't blame her, of course. He asks himself often what the fuck he had been thinking. But then sometimes he will catch her scent, or more like, it catches him, really, and he cant help but wallow in it, get stuck there for a few moments, barely functioning. But then there are other times he will see her smile at her book or laugh at Arthur's stupid bloody japes and deep down, he knows. He knows he couldn't live knowing she was out there, leagues away from him, it would have driven him mad. As mad as it drives him having her right here, he cant even fathom it away from her. And so, for the thousandth time, he confirms to himself that indeed, he had to have her, and for always. 

It has been increasingly hard to keep his distance lately. He finds himself more and more often in her presence, not daring anything, content just to watch her, and smell her. At times like these he can't help but loathe himself, the beast inside him. A dog begging for scraps. He does not want to frighten her, but is only painfully aware his appearance on its own is rather frightful. Best not make it worse with his gruffness and social inadequacies. If he were her, he would surely be wary. So for his part, he has tried to make an effort at being more civil. 

Sandor noticed she has been reading the same few books since she has been there. The idea was so simple really, a peace offering, so to speak. He had quite an impressive library in his wing of the castle and he would show it to her as soon as Boros had aired it out, dispensed of the dust and added some comfortable chairs. He had certainly read his fill over the years and was sure she could find something that would spark her interest. He was more than a little curious to see what kind of books she chose, if he were completely honest. 

And now here they were, standing before his library doors and she was right next to him, waiting expectantly, and his gut was roiling. "Close your eyes." He commanded, realizing too late, how harsh he sounded and cursed himself. Her eyebrows met in the middle and he knew she must be suspicious. "Don't worry... Its a... A surprise." He attempted a smile but knew it only made him uglier and must hardly be reassuring. Still, she looked at him curiously for a moment longer and then closed her eyes. His heart leapt into his throat. _Gods dog get it together! She's just a fucking girl._

"OK, I'm going to take your hands now, and... no damn peeking." He barked at her. Sansa had a small smile on her face, but held out her hands all the same, so with no further ado, he took them in his. The contact sent a small jolt up his arms and he almost snatched his hands away from the shock of it. _The bloody fuck was that?_

He shook his head. "All right I'm going to lead you now. Remember, keep them closed until I say." He pulled on her gently and the sweet thing followed with her eyes shut tight. Sandor kicked twice at the bottom of one of the doors with his boot and Boros flung them open as he led her inside. 

As commanded earlier, Boros quickly made his way to the windows, grabbed the curtains, and began opening them. The expansive windows provided plenty of light. The room was two stories itself, with every wall lined with rows and rows of books, There was a large table and chairs in the middle with unlit candles and lanterns atop it. Off to the left, two ridiculously sizable, but worn, chairs in front of a huge fireplace. A perfect place to curl up with a book, if he did say so himself. He could just see her there now. He only hoped she would like it. 

"All right, you can open your eyes now." He stepped back and as her eyes opened her hands flew to her mouth as she gasped. She turned in a slow circle, taking everything in with wide eyes full of wonder. 

He spoke up behind her. "Now, you can come and go as you please, just steer clear of my chambers of course. They are the very last doors at the end of the hall"

Sansa seemed to have lost her voice. She looked very much pleased. Pride swelled inside of him. He was secretly very pleased himself. She turned to him, her eyes were glittering, which he hoped was a good thing. 

"Oh, Sandor! This is... This is so wonderful!! I've never seen so many books!" Sansa clasped her hands together and he imagined she looked like a child who was just told that he could have any treat or trinket that he wanted from the market. 

"Yes well, ehem, I hope this pleases the lady, your other books seemed likely to fall apart any moment."

Sansa laughed, "Yes they are rather dog eared aren't they? They are the only ones I've ever had and well... you can see they are well used." She was still grinning and looking around almost greedily. Her smile was infectious. He could not help but grin back. "Well go on then, I... Will leave you to it." Sandor turned to go.

" Wait!" Sansa paused as Sandor turned back around to look at her, "Won't you stay?" 

Caught off guard Sandor stuttered, "Oh... Well, mm, why yes, I can stay if you'd like." Sansa smiled and nodded once, then headed over to a row of books. Sandor watched her for a moment and then walked slowly to take a seat as Sansa began to look for a book. An odd feeling was taking over him, something he hadn't felt in a very long time. In so long a time in fact that he was uncertain if he should really name it what it had to be.

Sandor Clegane felt... _happy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's another short chapter, I can't seem to make them longer! Stay with me, though! They will get longer eventually!


	13. Chapter 13

Sandor and Sansa spent the entire day, and well into the evening, in the library. It was hands down the best day of Sandor's life. Unfortunately, nice things don't usually last for Sandor. 

Sansa had been quiet for awhile, he assumed she had been reading but when he looked up from his own book he noticed she had fallen asleep headlong in hers. The dim light cast her in the warmest glow and his heart gave a funny little lurch in his chest at the sight. He chuckled and almost had the mind to scoop her right up and carry her off to bed. But he stopped that thought in its tracks. 

He wasn't entirely sure how comfortable she was with him. She appeared to have an aversion to his steward, which bolstered him just slightly. Cartainly at ease enough to chat the day away, and while he got the feeling she seemed to genuinely enjoy his company... He still wondered.

Sandor thinks to himself. _Wee fae creature cast a damn spell on me!_ Sitting there, utterly undecided, it struck him again just how topsy turvy the girl made him feel. Never has he been so indecisive, so incredibly unsure and insecure about anything before in his entire adult life. It perplexes him, confuses him, and frightens him a good deal more than he cares to admit. These feelings are undeniably foreign to him. Caring about another person this way, especially when he barely knows them. How her presence continues to effect him so greatly. 

He rises, yet resists the urge to collect her, if for only a moment longer. His will is only so strong. 

Hesitantly, Sandor closes the distance between them. He bends down, hovers a heartbeat, and slides his arms underneath her as gently as he can. Her scent almost undoes him. _Seven Hells, look at me, trembling like a maid._ She makes a groan of protest and mumbles something about a horse as he lifts her up and she settles in his arms and against his chest. He chokes back a laugh. He has time enough to be reminded of how she feels in his arms, when she lays her head on his shoulder. Her little breaths puff against his beard as she sleeps. His heart gives another odd lurch. _How utterly lost am I?._

He walks slowly and with care back to her room. He does not want her to wake yet. He is afraid to be this close to her but savors it nonetheless. It evokes too many confusing feelings and sensations. Overwhelming and heartbreaking in their promise. He imagines himself a stony cliff at the edge of the world. Proud and grim. The waves crash and surge upon him. Beating him down relentlessly, turning him to sand. He is being turned inside out and it's a joyous torture. _She is my undoing._

He reaches her door and pulls it open, jostling her with the movement. She stirs and his breath catches in his throat. Somehow her hand curls into his coat and she clutches at him. He carries her inside and places her on the bed, maybe with too much haste. He mumbles a quick apology and is out the door before she is even fully awake. He bids her goodnight from outside of her closed door and waits until he's heard her bar it. He heads to his chambers quickly. The hair on the back of his neck rising. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again so so sorry for the huge delay and size of the chapter. I promise I will move this along better soon! Thank you for hanging with me!


End file.
